


Deepground Evacuation

by sekiharatae



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-23
Updated: 2009-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekiharatae/pseuds/sekiharatae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something strange has begun in the ruins of Midgar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight or Flight

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine the last scenes in this story to take place between twenty-four and forty-eight hours before the first incidents in _Dirge of Cerberus_. So there be spoilers here.

The night the screaming started in Midgar, Cloud was away doing a favor for Reeve. Seventh Heaven was bustling as usual when a young man – wild eyed and pale – stumbled in the door shouting for quiet. In the sudden silence a distant, eerie wailing became frighteningly clear, rising to a painful crescendo before falling silent, only to begin again a few minutes later. Customers drained glasses held in shaky hands, then called for additional liquid courage even as they tried to argue that it was nothing more than the wind whipping through the ruins of the abandoned city. Such platitudes fell flat: the evening was clear and still, and there was an all too real and human element in the far off cries. Finishing their meals and drinks to the accompaniment of uneasy whispers, the bar patrons trickled away in nervous clumps, the horrific sound seeming to grow louder as each departure reduced the ambient noise. After the last couple slipped away, Tifa decided to close the bar: additional customers were unlikely, and she herself would feel just a bit more secure with locked doors between her family and whatever was causing... that.

Leaving Seventh Heaven dark and empty, Tifa climbed the stairs to find that Denzel and Marlene had sought comfort in the bed she and Cloud had come to share, burrowing under the covers and watching Midgar's ruins through the window. She joined them after a quick shower, turning the radio on to drown out the screams, and settling between them with an arm around each, trying to reassure them with her presence that everything was alright. Unfortunately, both children had seen that – while she could hold her own against drunks, street thugs, and thieves – Tifa wasn't always proof against the sort of nightmares spawned by Shin-Ra.

And this terror emanated from what was once Shin-Ra's primary playground. Nearly three weeks ago a team of investigators and reporters had opened up yet another previously sealed lab, and then disappeared. What new horrors had they possibly discovered?

"I wish Cloud were here," Denzel mumbled, then blushed and hastily tried to take the words back. Marlene's answering whisper from Tifa's other side stopped him.

"I do too."

Tifa kept silent, but internally echoed their wish. It didn't bother her that the kids felt Cloud was synonymous with safety, for she did too. Cloud was a protector – it was a large part of his identity, and one of the main ways he showed affection. Monsters that went bump in the night were practically his specialty. He also had a knack for knowing when his help was necessary and would be appreciated, and when it wasn't. Without needing to discuss it, he let her know he respected her abilities, while still making her feel safe, protected, and feminine.

As another scream rose and was abruptly cut off, she reached for the phone on the night stand. Cloud's cell number was on speed dial: his phone began ringing before the children even realized she was making a call. As had become his habit in the past year, he answered after the second ring instead of letting the service pick up.

"Tifa?" His calm voice was instantly reassuring. "I'm almost finished here. Can I call you back when I get to the inn?" Faintly, she could hear Fenrir's idling, and knew he'd pulled over when the phone rang.

Tifa opened her mouth, then hesitated, unsure what she should say. _Cloud, Midgar is screaming. Please come home._

"Tifa?" Cloud's tone was questioning, the rumble of Fenrir's engine cutting off as he gave their conversation his full attention.

"Cloud..." still unsure, she turned her head to meet first Marlene's frightened gaze, then Denzel's worried one. "Can you come home tonight?" The words came out in a rush, her voice trembling just the slightest bit, enough to convey this wasn't a simple case of missing him.

"Yes." He didn't ask why, or for any explanations, just agreed immediately. "It'll take some time, though... at least five or six hours."

"That's fine. Just... come home." _Soon._ Tifa swallowed, striving to sound her normal cheerful self. "Avoid Midgar if you can. And if you can't... be careful."

A considering pause, and then his voice came over the line, composed as ever. "Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can." There was a muted roar as he restarted the motorcycle. "Try to get some sleep. Tell the kids I'll see them in the morning."

Tifa sighed as she hung up the phone. Such a few short sentences to engender such a feeling of relief. "He's on his way," she told the patiently waiting duo, and felt them relax fractionally as well. "We should get some sleep, and it'll make it seem like he made it here that much faster." Marlene opened her mouth to protest and Tifa shook her head. "He said to tell you he'd see you in the morning."

The little girl smiled, and the boy nodded in satisfaction. "That's as good as a promise."

Nevertheless, there was no suggestion of the kids heading back to their own beds. All three curled together under the blankets and fell into fitful sleep, startling awake at any motion from their companions, or when the music on the radio went soft.

* * *

Cloud arrived home around three in the morning. The source of Tifa's unease had been apparent for the last half hour of the drive, enhanced hearing clearly discerning human voices and abject terror in the rising screams. He had very little information to give Reeve concerning his errand in Junon, but he was fairly certain the twelve hundred missing people had something to do with whatever was happening in Midgar.

He'd have to see what he could find out once the sun was up.

For now, he wanted to check on Tifa and the kids, take a shower, and get some sleep.

He was not surprised to find all three curled in the bed together. Particularly loud thunderstorms – those reminiscent of the atmosphere and noise of Sephiroth's dark lifestream – were far less nerve wracking than the tortured screams echoing from the ruined city, yet often resulted in a similar tangle of bodies. Usually with him somewhere on the bottom. He'd tried explaining that piling on top of him was counter-productive – it was impossible to chase off monsters or burglars or whatever if he was pinned down – but Tifa had just laughed and said he was missing the point.

Satisfied they were safe, he grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the shower. Ten minutes later he exited the bathroom – hair still damp, wearing sweats and a t-shirt – to find Marlene sitting up in bed, warily watching the bathroom door.

"Cloud!" Although whispered, his name carried volumes of relief. Slipping out of the bed, she bolted across the room to throw her arms around his waist in a hug before just as quickly releasing him and ducking into the bathroom. "Wait for me!" she ordered as the door clicked shut, and he felt his mouth curve in amusement.

Marlene was not normally afraid of the dark. Sometimes, though – after a scary movie or an evening listening to Denzel's stories of living in Midgar after Meteor – she was hit by a spell of abject fright, characterized by the unwavering fear that monsters lurked in the shadows. This was not the first time he'd stood unnecessary guard duty before tucking her back into bed.

When she exited, he swung her up in his arms, letting her stifle nervous giggles against his throat as he walked to the bed. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to lift Denzel long enough to slip carefully under the covers, moving over until he brushed against Tifa's back. He stroked his hand soothingly along her side when she stirred, and she turned over to snuggle against his arm, relaxing again without waking. Marlene settled happily between them, her slight form half on top of Cloud as she used his shoulder for a pillow. Groggy, and nearly oblivious to having been moved, Denzel did the same on the other side, leaving the swordsman effectively trapped between the two children – not that he minded. Tilting his head he watched as Marlene wriggled a bit before shifting to rest her head on his chest, fisting her hand in his shirt and giving a small sigh.

"Comfy?"

She nodded, already well on her way back to sleep. "Your heartbeat sounds nice," she mumbled around a yawn. The slow, steady beat was soothing, and gave her something else to focus on so she could ignore the shrieks from outside. "G'night Cloud."

"Sweet dreams Marlene."

* * *

Tifa awoke late in the morning, the sun already well-up and the day bright. She was pressed against Marlene's back, her arm thrown over the girl and stretched out over Cloud's chest so her fingertips just brushed Denzel's arm on his other side. Her head rested on Cloud's shoulder, his arm loosely curled around her, his hand warm on her back under the covers.

Most importantly, it was blessedly quiet. The radio had been turned off at some point – most likely by Cloud – and the only sounds from outside were those normal for mid-morning in Edge.

"It stopped around dawn." His quiet words broke into her thoughts, and she tilted her head to meet his steady, bright blue gaze. "It's been quiet for hours."

"What time is it?" Tifa kept her voice equally soft, trying not to wake Denzel or Marlene.

"Around ten I think – I can't really see the clock." She could hear the bemused laughter in his voice, typical after a night where they trapped him in bed like this, using him as a security blanket.

She smiled in return. "Thanks for coming home, Cloud," she whispered, and felt lightly calloused fingers stroke her spine in response. "Did you get any sleep at all?" It was hard to tell with him; she'd never seen him exhibit any of the normal signs of a sleepless night. Ever. The only times she'd seen his eyes bloodshot were on the rare occasions he managed to get drunk (all... three of them was it now?); and only when he'd been sick with geostigma for months had the faintest of shadows appeared under his eyes. He could go days without sleep and be fine right up until the instant he collapsed without warning.

"Mm. If you three hadn't been sleeping so well I would've already been up and on the phone to Reeve."

Tifa shifted at his reminder that they needed to start the day, and frowned at his reference to the errand he'd been on for the WRO. "What did you find out?" As she spoke, she sat up and stretched, then half turned to look down at him.

"Nothing much." Cloud paused, sighed, then shared the bad news. "I think whatever was going on last night has something to do with the disappearances in Junon. Reeve has lots of contacts. I'm hoping he'll have found out something while I was away."

She nodded, brown eyes worried, then pushed the covers back and slid out of the bed. "Okay, can you give me a few minutes to get dressed before waking those two? They're going to be hungry and I need a bit of a head start before they demand breakfast."

Cloud's mouth curved in the slight gesture that passed for a broad grin on him. "Waffles?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head at him and his love of carbohydrates, but agreed. "Waffles. Just give me... ten minutes before you release the hounds?"

That prompted a small chuckle, and she headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair.

Half an hour later all four of them gathered in the kitchen to enjoy waffles and bacon, the children chattering but still somewhat subdued by the fears of the night before. When he finished, Cloud stood, ruffling Denzel's hair and giving Marlene's braid a gentle tug as he walked around the table: small, casual expressions of affection and caring that helped ease their anxiety, reminding them that he would be there if they needed him. "I'm going to make that call to Reeve now."

Tifa nodded. "We'll clean up the kitchen and then open the bar." That was the normal routine, and normality seemed important after the strange night they'd had. Cloud however paused, frowning, at her words. Accustomed to his ways, Tifa knew he was concerned and trying to decide whether or not he should say anything. "I'll close when the sun starts to set, and make sure the customers know that." Barely tensed shoulders relaxed and he gave a relieved nod before disappearing out the door. Moments later his footsteps could be heard heading up the stairs to his office.

Unfortunately, Reeve had very little information to share: only a name based on a far-fetched rumor. Another Shin-Ra project that had been forgotten when the former president and his lackeys were killed.

 _Deepground._

A secret division of SOLDIER, and another of Hojo's pet projects.

If Deepground existed and was surfacing now, it was both probable and likely that at least some of its members were augmented with mako, Jenova cells, or both. A concept that made anyone who realized it extremely nervous.

A scouting trip made during daylight hours provided Cloud with a sense of movement and activity in Midgar, but nothing concrete he could point to or report. The place just seemed more aware than it had in the past three years. It was like an anthill that sat quietly until it was disturbed, and then erupted in activity.

Making it erupt before they were ready to deal with the consequences was not something anyone was willing to risk. So Reeve stationed WRO troopers in Edge, and they waited, attempting to gather more information.

Each night, as if scheduled, the screaming resumed at dusk and continued until dawn. On the third night after the screaming started, Reeve's guards radioed to report a woman with red hair and distinctly odd clothing wandering the Midgar side of Edge. In the morning, the entire squad was found slaughtered, bearing injuries both from bullets and some sort of bladed weapon.

Which prompted Cloud to make a decision. Denzel and Marlene were nervous, showing distinct signs of stress and lack of sleep. Tifa's eyes were constantly worried, her brows pinched. They'd waited long enough.

"I think we should gather up the kids and take them somewhere safe," he told Tifa, while Denzel and Marlene were safely distracted by the television. "If adults want to stay here in the shadow of that," he gestured vaguely at the ruined city, "while things go crazy that's one thing. But we need to evacuate the children."

Tifa couldn't disagree, she'd been thinking along the same lines herself. But there were some rather large obstacles. "Where will we go? Anyplace is better than spending another night listening to those screams, but how will we know it's safe? How will we get them there – and oh, Cloud, there are so many in the shelters."

"Reeve will help." Cloud's response was confident: he'd obviously been thinking about this for awhile. "If he can supply a few vehicles, Barret and I can drive them. As for where we'll go... I'm thinking Junon. Whatever these people are after, they've already taken it from there. They have no need to go back." It was also close enough to return to Edge in only a few hours if the WRO could figure out what was going on, and wanted their help.

The evacuation was surprisingly easy to arrange, once they'd come up with a plan. The handful of children's homes accepted their proposal with relief, as did the street kids that lived in the area around Seventh Heaven. Shortly after lunch, Cloud headed out to meet up with Barret and collect the trucks Reeve had agreed to provide. As he was leaving, the bar was already starting to fill up with children and their caretakers. With luck, they'd be in Junon before the little ones' bedtime.

* * *

Rosso had enjoyed her sport with the WRO guards – in a strictly cat-and-mouse fashion – but was eager for a more challenging fight. Dear little Shelke had provided a report on Vincent Valentine and his acquaintances, which indicated that the most famous of them lived practically on Deepground's doorstep. The man who had defeated Sephiroth on three different occasions should provide more worthy entertainment, and the chance to take this Cloud Strife down was too much for Rosso's ego to resist.

Weiss wouldn't mind the field trip, as long as she didn't disrupt the greater plan; and with the frightened citizens of Edge hiding inside come sunset, the streets were deserted. There were only a few ragtag urchins to provide company as she ghosted through the town, and they scattered like rats when they saw her.

* * *

Tifa's smile was anxious as she served the evacuees soup and sandwiches for dinner, while one eye watched the clock. Cloud and Barret had been delayed on the road, and Reeve had insisted on sending a squadron of troopers and a third truck along with them. They were still expected before darkfall, but would be cutting things very close. They'd so wanted to get the kids away without subjecting them to another repeat of those horrible screams.

"Tifa!" Harper, one of the street kids in the area, and a friend of Denzel's, came panting into the bar, voice tight and scared as he called her name. " _Tifa!_ "

Bending down she gently grasped his shoulders, spoke in calm, soothing tones. "It's alright sweetie, I'm here. What's wrong?"

His hands fisted in her apron as he pressed closer. "That woman... the one they think killed the WRO men... I _saw_ her! She's in the city center!"

Fear spiked, but Tifa resisted the urge to panic. "Are you sure, Harper? Can you tell me what she looked like?"

The little boy nodded, still gasping air after his frantic run. "I'm sure. She has long red hair, and is wearing some sort of armor with glowy blue stripes on it. And a long red train... it looks like it's made out of fur... almost like," and he stopped to gesture behind her at a picture of Nanaki with Denzel and Marlene, "that."

Definitely not good news. She sounded bizarre if nothing else, and much like the reports they'd received from Reeve. "Alright Harper, thank you for telling me. Go find Denzel and Marlene and stay with them, okay?" He willingly did as he was told, freeing her to find Mrs. Crumple and the other shelter administrators.

Ten minutes later the bar proper was empty of everyone save Tifa. With the help of the other adults, the children had been ushered into the bedrooms above the bar, or into the mostly empty basement. The door at the base of the stairs, which they hardly ever closed, had been shut and bolted from the other side. The basement door had no lock, but was separated from the bar by the kitchen.

If this woman did show up, hopefully she wouldn't be able to tell that Tifa was not alone.

It was small comfort.

 _Hurry, Cloud._

* * *

Rosso found her destination as mouse-quiet as the rest of the area, which was a bit of a disappointment. Even the vanquisher of Sephiroth felt the need to hide like a frightened child? Although, the lights were on and a woman clearly visible through the front window. Dark haired, with a strong demeanor, she was wiping down tables as if nothing unusual was happening in Edge.

That at least was curious. Strife was supposed to live with someone, a childhood friend turned more. Or he had, once: Shelke hadn't been entirely clear. Maybe this woman was she.

The door was locked, a sign displayed that stated, _Sorry, We're Closed_. Ignoring both, she slammed her shoulder into the wood, using her foot to break the lock at the bottom at the same time. The once sturdy plank flew open to the satisfying accompaniment of bent metal.

Tifa whirled around as the door crashed into the wall, playing the part of surprised barmaid despite the fact that she'd been aware of the woman's presence and scrutiny for some time.

"Where's Strife?" the redhead demanded in a strangely accented voice, and for a moment Tifa felt a strange sense of deja vu as she remembered Loz crashing into the church in a similar manner.

 _Pretend ignorance, or tell the truth?_ If this woman was SOLDIER, she'd be as good at reading people as Cloud. Probably better, as Cloud often let his nature contradict what his senses told him. _Truth_.

"He's not here."

Rosso's smile was arch. "He's not here now, or he's never here at all?"

The question made it clear, whether the woman was with Deepground or not, that she obviously had information on them. The words were pointed and snide, even though the hurt they were directed toward was a year out of date. Tifa remained silent, and let the other draw whatever conclusions she wanted.

"No matter." Unperturbed by Tifa's silence, Rosso reached for the weapon on her back, allowed the blades to unfold. "I understand he comes running whenever you're in trouble." Allowing her gaze to casually survey the bar, she walked slowly across the room. "And you _are_ in trouble, darling."

The redhead wasn't as fast as Loz, but she was close, appearing behind Tifa with such rapidity that there was only time to turn, not to block. The blow knocked her toward the center of the room, sneakers skidding across the hardwood floor as she stubbornly fought to stay on her feet. Her attacker's gaze was amused as she once more strolled toward Tifa, her weapon whistling as she swung it in a lazy, almost dancing pattern of curves. "Oh yes, you're in quite a lot of trouble indeed."

* * *

Edge and Midgar were a distant smudge on the horizon when Cloud's PHS rang. The caller ID was for Tifa's cell, not the bar, an oddity that had warning bells sounding as he answered.

"Cloud!" Blond brows drew down in a frown as he recognized the panicked voice in his ear as Denzel's. "You have to come home, you have to come home _now_!"

"Denzel? What's wrong? Where's Tifa?" The WRO soldier in the truck's cab with him cast a concerned, sidelong look at Cloud as he reflexively pressed harder on the gas, speeding up.

Denzel's voice was tight with fear. "That woman, the one on the news. She's here, Cloud! Tifa made us hide but now they're fighting!" The door to the bar crashing open had made a fair amount of noise, but Denzel and Marlene had obediently stayed in the basement until the first thud – as of a body hitting the floor – shook the ceiling. Against the protests of the few adults with them, Denzel and Marlene had crept out to listen at the kitchen door. Tifa's battle cries and the redhead's crazed laughter were both audible, but Tifa's voice was getting weaker. They'd heard both furniture and glass break, and a sound oddly like Mr. Valentine's gun before Tifa had cried out in obvious pain. That's when Denzel had called Cloud.

Memories of Tifa's crumpled, beaten form – as he'd found her in the church after the last time she'd tackled someone with SOLDIER abilities – were painfully clear in Cloud's memory. Cold fear struggled to rise and he clamped it down, forcing himself to remain calm. "Alright Denzel. I need you to hold on." Pulling over, he thumbed the switch that would open the back of the truck. In the rear view mirror he could see the other two trucks in their caravan coming to a stop behind him. "You'll be driving from here on," he told his companion, voice quiet but intense. "Floor it."

Slipping out of the cab he jogged to meet Barret, who'd been driving the second truck. The large man wasted no time in demanding, "What the hell are you doing, Cloud?"

Ignoring him, Cloud once more spoke into his PHS, focusing on the scared little boy on the other end. "I'm on my way Denzel. I'm going to give Barret my phone. Keep the line open, but stay quiet and out of sight, and do whatever he tells you, understand?"

The simple instructions seemed to sooth some of Denzel's fear, and his voice was steadier as he agreed. Handing the phone to Barret, Cloud pulled his goggles on and swung a leg over Fenrir as he started the engine. "Tifa's in trouble," although the other man could hear him clearly, his words wouldn't carry over the phone, lost to the background rumble of the bike. "I'm going ahead. Follow as fast as you can." Without waiting for a reply he gunned the motorcycle, and Fenrir leapt into motion.

He was out of sight before the trucks were even moving again.

* * *

For all that Loz had asked her to play with him, this woman was the one using Tifa like a toy. The kicks weren't hard to block, but the blades were starting to take a toll, and she'd run out of energy to dodge the gunfire. Her vest was cut across the back and along one shoulder. As if to keep things even, her other shoulder bled from a trio of close-set bullet holes. The trailing end of her skirt had been sliced away, leaving thin cuts across the backs of her calves. One leg bled from another bullet wound, and her hands were both bloody, her gloves open across the knuckles. She also sported a myriad of cuts and bruises from being slammed into the floor, tables, and broken glass.

"Strife is taking his time, isn't he?" the redhead laughed, sedately seating herself at the bar and pouring a glass of red wine. She watched with mild interest as Tifa struggled to stand from the wreckage of the last table she'd crashed through.

Tifa held her tongue, and concentrated on breathing. Her last remark had resulted in a stream of bullets following her around the bar to embed in photographs, lights, and the kitchen door – a door that should have swung freely under the impact, but barely moved at all, as if someone were listening on the other side. Probably two someones, who would both get an earful later.

If she survived.

None of her wounds were critical, but the combined blood loss was starting to make her stumble. She made it to her feet only to sway unsteadily in place as she raised her fists.

"Nothing to say?" Legs crossed, Rosso calmly sipped her wine, her bow-shaped weapon resting on the counter by her elbow, its edge glistening red in the light of the few undamaged lamps. "Oh, don't bother, darling," she added, as Tifa drew breath for another rush, "you'll just hurt yourself again."

Growling, the martial artist used her anger and fear to fuel her charge. The redhead didn't even bother to stand. Rotating on her stool she swept her weapon around to block Tifa's punch inches away from her face, then lazily kicked the smaller woman in the stomach with her spiked heel. Breathless, Tifa was thrown the length of the room to crash into the wall adjacent to the open door. She blinked, her ears registering a welcome rumble as she fought against the black encroaching on her vision, but managed only to stare numbly as Rosso leveled her weapon and fired.

Then there was a screech of tires and Cloud was there, shielding her body with the bulk of Fenrir, blocking bullets with the wide blade of his main sword. He was shouting, the words indistinct but the tone obvious, and part of her was shocked: she hadn't heard him truly angry since the first time they'd fought Sephiroth. Cloud didn't really get angry. She slid down the wall to sit in the shadow of the cooling motorcycle, eyes closed, unable to do more than listen as he fought the redhead. Part of her was distantly pleased and a bit smug to hear the woman grunting with effort and frustration – how do you like it, bitch? – but even thinking was becoming difficult.

Cloud attacked in a flurry of blows, teeth gritted in anger as the two short side blades of the fusion sword struck and rebounded, parried and attacked. He'd discarded the main weapon after shielding Tifa. This woman – undoubtedly SOLDIER – was tall, her long reach increased by her odd weapon; but he was faster, more focused, and more determined. She also seemed to have expended whatever ammo she had in his first rush, forcing her to fight in close quarters. She had little room to swing her oversized weapon, and could do scarcely more than block and retreat under his assault. Slowly but surely he pressed his advantage, until finally a double blow knocked her back, and a blade beam threw her out the door. She whirled to her feet as Barret appeared at the end of the street, truck barreling toward them.

Snarling in frustration, Rosso jumped out of the way, the WRO truck squealing to a stop a moment later. Strife landed nimbly atop the vehicle as the driver's door was thrown open, and a dark man jumped out, his prosthetic hand already transforming into a gun of some sort. He started firing as Strife leapt toward her, and she executed a series of flips to avoid the bullets. Hearing WRO troops in the background, she cursed. Weiss would not be pleased at the commotion she'd created. She had been careless, had enjoyed hurting the little barmaid far too much. Despite her taunting, Strife's arrival had been unexpected. She'd been unprepared, had expended a bit too much energy torturing the dark haired woman, and now she was forced to retreat in the face of these WRO dogs. It rankled, and Strife would pay for it, sooner or later.

In the bar, her vision black and consciousness fading, Tifa registered Barret's voice yelling in the street, and knew the rest of the cavalry had arrived. The kids would be safe. Gunfire and shouted orders filtered through her fuzzy thoughts, followed by running footsteps and rapid breaths somewhere closer. Gentle fingers brushed her hair away from her face as the comforting warmth of a full cure materia cascaded through her, assuring her she was safe, too. "Cloud," she murmured, the impression of wide, frightened, mako blue eyes making its way through the haze of pain and weariness. Then the green wave of healing magic rose around her, and she knew no more.

When next she woke they were in Junon, safe and sound if still somewhat shaken by her close call. Cloud and Barret took turns reading her the riot act for everything from taking chances to scaring them half to death. Barret's bluster and worry came as no surprise, but Cloud's upset was unusual. She'd taken lots of risks when they traveled the world three years before, chasing Sephiroth, and he'd never reacted quite like this. In front of the kids his responses were expected, normal, playing down her injuries so as not to worry them further. But the speaking glances he sent her alone were filled with lingering fear and something fierce, almost primal. She'd glimpsed it once before, when he found her in the church. Just a hint of it in the clench of his jaw and the demand in his voice. Then she'd fainted, and when next they spoke it was gone, masked along with his other emotions. Now it was blatantly there for her to see, and caused her breath to catch and heart to race. She knew, once they were alone, that there would be words and more between them.

As anxious as the thought made her, she was looking forward to it.


	2. What Fear Makes Men Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is also an 'explicit' version of this chapter. It has been posted here under the chapter title ('What Fear Makes Men Do') as a separate story.

There are many different types of fear, with just as many and varied sources. Fear of being alone – ignored and shunned – had been a constant companion to Cloud growing up, all the more so because he lived with the reality of it everyday. Fear of failure was another with which he became familiar at a young age, his acquaintance with it growing stronger as he grew. When he was sixteen, fear of being helpless became another close friend, one that haunted him still: gifting him with nightmares in which he floated, paralyzed, in a sea of mako-green; or watched, a spectator in his own body, while another controlled his actions.

Although he was known several times over as a hero, he was no stranger to fear.

Despite the things he'd seen and done in his twenty-four years, however, his greatest fear revolved around his friends and family. Fear that they would be hurt, whether individually or collectively, physically or emotionally. It was a recent addition, one Cloud had only lived with for a few years, and whenever it struck he always found himself struggling to cope with the newness of it, with the fact that – in every possible way – this fear was just... more. Sharper, brighter, more angled, more urgent, more consuming. He hated it when Tifa or the kids were hurt or frightened. It scared him when they bled or cried or were sick. It had terrified him to find Tifa collapsed in the church after Loz' attack. Despite that, the sheer horror he felt when he arrived at the bar to find her bloody, nearly unconscious, and about to be gunned down was greater still. Every second it took to drive her attacker away, while her heart pumped blood out onto the floor behind him, was too long. Once the strange woman was in full retreat, he left Barret to restore order, and raced back to Tifa's side.

Relief engulfed him as her body responded to his use of materia. While he watched, bullets were expelled, and cuts and bruises faded, leaving only smooth, unblemished skin. A more intense glow gathered at her stomach, indicating internal injuries, but that too faded within moments. Unfortunately, the extensive healing took its own toll, pushing her over the edge into unconsciousness. He caught her close as she slumped forward, closing his own eyes and trying to force himself to relax. He'd made it. Tifa would be fine.

That's what he told Barret a few minutes later, when the larger man appeared in the doorway, and he repeated it to Denzel and Marlene when they came running in response to Barret's distinctive voice.

Still, it was worry fueled adrenalin that carried him through the next hour, as he and Barret worked together to organize the evacuation. The three WRO vehicles were large enough to accommodate everyone, but just barely. Tifa was placed on a makeshift pallet in Barret's truck, Denzel and Marlene earnestly promising to watch over her, but Cloud was forced to travel separately. That had, of course, been the original plan; but with the change in circumstances, he found it less than satisfactory. Much as he loved Fenrir and the open road, in this particular instance he would have preferred the stuffy cargo area and the press of strangers. Some part of him needed to see Tifa in order to believe that she was really alright. Instead, he made the trip to Junon with only his thoughts of what might have happened – what would have happened, had he arrived any later – to keep him company.

In Junon, Reeve had made arrangements for the evacuees to stay in empty Shinra housing. The children would sleep in the barrack dormitories, while the adults stayed in the nearby officers' quarters. Cloud and Barret claimed a small suite of rooms for their little family, and Cloud settled Tifa in one bedroom while Denzel and Marlene explored the other. Despite their earlier scare, spending the night in a new place was exciting, and they rushed around peering in drawers and closets as if expecting to find exotic treasure. When told they would be sharing the large bed, sides were chosen and subjected to a few test bounces that soon escalated into a pillow fight.

When the kids had exhausted themselves pummeling each other, Cloud made sure Denzel showered and changed into his pajamas, while Barret did the same for Marlene. Once they were tucked into bed, Cloud also said good night, leaving the older man to relax in front of the TV.

Although he was tired, sleep did not come quickly or easily. Stretching out beside Tifa, he kept silent vigil over her unnaturally still form. For the next several hours he held her hand, stroking careful fingers through her hair as he spoke softly of his meeting with Reeve, and told her how well-behaved the children had been on the journey. Anything he could think of to keep his mind busy, and to coax her back to him. It was after midnight before she relaxed from unconsciousness into normal sleep, curling against him and turning to snuggle her head under his chin. Only then, as her breath ghosted moist and warm over his collarbone, did his own tension begin to subside. She really would be alright. Letting that thought sink in and take hold, he succumbed to slumber himself.

So it was ironic, come the morning, to realize he wanted to shake her. Or spank her. Or something. He wasn't really certain _what_ he wanted, other than for her to promise never to scare him that way again. Then he wanted to kiss her until he couldn't remember being angry with her in the first place.

Instead, he got to watch across the breakfast table as Barret scolded her for taking chances, blustering dramatically, and she simply smiled and brushed his concerns aside. Shaking her jumped right back to the top of his list of things he wanted to do, and he bit into a piece of toast to avoid grinding his teeth, or saying something he might later regret. He hadn't yelled at _Sephiroth_ the last time he killed the bastard, and now he was upset enough – almost – to yell at _Tifa_. The very thought seemed like it belonged to someone else. Cloud honestly couldn't ever remember being this furious with anyone he cared for, let alone her. Frustrated and annoyed, yes. Anger, however, was generally reserved for his enemies.

Still... he _was_ angry. Angry that she had scared him, and angry that she'd been so reckless. Angry that she didn't seem to understand how frightened they'd all been. And underneath it all, angry at himself for scaring her this way in the past.

* * *

Tifa was aware of Cloud's eyes following her throughout the day, his glowing gaze flickering through a wide range of emotions. Foremost were fear and relief, commingled to provided a far more potent – though nonverbal – scolding than Barret managed at full volume. It was obvious that she'd worried him, and for that she was sorry; but not as sorry as she'd be if any of the children had been hurt.

Far more distracting were the passion and possessiveness that lingered in the depths of his eyes, things she was accustomed to seeing when they were alone, not shining there for Barret or Reeve to notice. Her heart beat a little faster when she felt that heated look, her skin tingling, body eager. Perhaps it was that which kept her from realizing anger also lurked in the tangle of his emotions.

Whatever the reason, it was dinnertime before she saw it. She'd been standing at the table, milk jug in hand as she refilled Marlene's glass, when Barret decided to start up again. The first time he'd done it, she'd been touched that he cared so much; but after a whole day of scolding she just found it annoying. Turning her head to catch Cloud's eye, hoping he'd come to her rescue... she instead found him watching her with eyes that burned with muted anger. Although a great deal of it was directed at the situation, some portion was focused on her.

Cloud was angry with her. _Cloud_ was _angry_ with _her_.

It hurt, and her eyes widened with surprise, prickled unexpectedly. Cloud noticed, his mouth tightening and his head shaking almost imperceptibly. Denying his anger? Denying her hurt? Denying her tears?

Abruptly she spoke, interrupting Barret's tirade, though her gaze remained locked on Cloud, words directed at him. "What should I have done differently? Let her hurt the kids?" She shook her head, placing the jug on the table with more force than necessary. "You know I'd never do that." Brown eyes held a scold of their own, but detected no softening in either man.

"Of course not, Tifa!" Barret's tone was frustrated, as if she was missing the point.

"Then what? What _are_ you saying? What do you want _me_ to say?"

"That you'll be more careful!"

"How?"

They stared at each other, neither backing down, until Cloud's quiet voice cut through the room.

"Why didn't you turn out the lights and stay with the others? Or wait out of sight in the kitchen?" Barret immediately subsided, mouth curving with satisfaction that the other man had finally said something. Tifa could only stare, open-mouthed, for it was a fair question. A reasonable question. And she didn't have an answer.

"I..." Her knees suddenly felt weak as her righteous indignation faded, and she collapsed into her chair. "I don't know."

Cloud's mouth quirked, just a bit, as he pushed his plate back and stood. "I do." Tifa's eyes snapped to his face, while Barret sat back in his chair to watch their exchange. "You got so caught up in protecting everyone else, you forgot about yourself." Hands flat on the table, he leaned forward, his expression serious and intent. "You're strong, and you've been trained, and you care so much about _everyone_. So it's natural to put yourself between others and anyone who would do them harm. But you didn't even consider that it might not be necessary." She opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head. "Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. She came looking for me," and his tone was bitter, conveying his sense of guilt over that, "so it's possible she would have kicked the door in regardless. I just wish you'd waited to see, instead of throwing yourself out there as a decoy." He straightened again, hands falling to fist at his sides, before unclenching slowly as if by conscious decision. "You're not expendable, Tifa."

The room was silent, both children too surprised to see _Tifa_ getting scolded by _Cloud_ – however gently – to fill the void with chatter. Then someone knocked on the door and the moment broke. Barret drained the last of his glass as Cloud went to answer the summons, showing Reeve into the small living room. As the WRO director began spreading out files and photos over the coffee table, Tifa finished her dinner and ushered the kids off to get ready for bed. When she passed Cloud he caught her hand, his glance asking if she'd be joining them. His gesture caused the knots inside her to ease just a bit. He was only angry because he cared.

"Fill me in later," she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze before walking away.

Once the kids were in bed and asleep, Tifa retreated to the shower, letting the hot water ease tight shoulders as she considered what Cloud and Barret had said. It was embarrassing to realize they were right, and she had been careless. Worse, she'd been dismissive of their concerns, leaving her feeling both ashamed and foolish. Knowing they would forgive her didn't erase her mistakes, or do much to soothe her nerves when she remembered the things she'd seen in Cloud's eyes. So she took her time, dragging out her shower and then blow-drying her hair to delay having to face either of the men. After more than an hour closeted in the small room, she gathered her courage and opened the door, only to freeze at the sight of Cloud. He'd turned the covers back, and was situated in the middle of the bed among the mound of pillows, propped up against the headboard. Like herself, he was dressed for bed, and she realized he'd also taken the time to shower.

He was also very obviously waiting for her, legs splayed out in font of him and arms folded behind his head. "I was beginning to think you were going to hide in there all night." He didn't turn his head as he spoke, but his tone was gently teasing.

She relaxed a bit more. "I wasn't hiding," she denied, "I was thinking."

At that he did turn his head, just slightly, and held out his hand. Hesitantly, she moved to join him, taking his hand and letting him pull her into his lap. "Deep thoughts?"

Snuggling close, her back against his bare chest, legs cradled between his, she shook her head, watched as he reached to turn out the bedside light. "More embarrassed than deep."

"Oh?" He spoke with his mouth pressed to her throat, lips brushing her skin. His fingers gently stroked up and down her arms, soothing more of her anxiety away.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, and felt him still. "I didn't think. You and Barret were right."

Cloud sighed, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You scared me." A simple statement, no blame or accusation.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know." Another sigh, a kiss on her shoulder, and his hands were moving again, sliding down to twine his fingers with hers. "I never mean to scare you either." His tone was wry, self-deprecating.

"You haven't, not in a long time," she hastened to assure him, watching his long fingers rub along her more slender ones. "Not since you came back."

"That's good," he murmured, lips grazing her temple, well aware she'd spent far too much time worrying about him in the past. Still... thanks to his two bouts of mako poisoning, she'd always focused more on what he was thinking and feeling than on any physical hurts he might suffer. It took a lot to do him any real damage, and he healed so quickly the evidence of any injuries was usually gone by the time he got home, leaving nothing for her to be concerned over. So he couldn't help but think the kind of worry she suffered on his behalf had to be less nerve wracking than finding him in a pool of his own blood would be.

Whereas finding her in a similar state was all too real to him.

Releasing her fingers, he began drawing circles on the bare skin of her thigh with one hand, while she clasped the other between her palms. He gave a soft sound of pleasure and approval when she raised it to her mouth, nibbled at his fingertips. "Tifa?"

"Mmm?" Her inquiring hum vibrated around the finger she'd sucked between her lips, and he swallowed at the teasing sensation.

"Would you promise me something?" despite what she was doing, he kept his tone serious, yet soft.

She stiffened in his arms, let his hand slip down to rest in her lap. "It depends on what it is."

He trapped her fingers between his own before she could pull away, his right arm wrapping around her waist to keep her close. "Promise not to take anymore risks like that. Promise me you'll be careful." She was already shaking her head, and his hold tightened as frustration surged. "The woman who attacked you is called Rosso the Crimson. She's part of an elite Deepground group called the Tsviets." He spoke directly into her ear, voice tight with suppressed urgency. "She's an elite among the elite, Tifa. Essentially a SOLDIER first like Zack and Sephiroth, only she's been conditioned to be cruel all her life, and there are four more just like her." Although he couldn't see her face, he could only imagine her eyes were wide and shocked. He waited, wanting the facts to sink in on their own so he wouldn't have to say what they both knew was true: Tifa had no chance, alone, against one of the Tsviets. "Promise me," he urged.

Tifa hesitated, wanting to give him the reassurance he needed, but unwilling to promise something she wouldn't be able to do. Finally she bit her lip, sighing regretfully. "I can't, Cloud. I don't know what might happen in the future. I can't make a promise like that, I'm sorry." She waited, but he neither let her go nor pulled away. "Are you angry?" her voice was small and worried.

"No," his reply was calm, the brush of his hand against her side soothing. "I'm not angry." Disappointed, but not angry.

There was a pause, both of them falling quiet, lost in thought; and then she shifted a bit, tilted her head back to see his face. "You seem angry," she told him, eyeing his profile doubtfully.

Blond hair brushed her cheek as he shook his head. "I understand. I want you to be safe, but I understand." And he had to respect her for it, even if he didn't like it. Still, maybe they could compromise. "What if we _both_ promise?" She relaxed a bit, head tilting in question, and he slipped further down in the bed, turning her to lie on her back. "When whatever is happening comes to a head, we'll stick together, so neither of us has to deal with someone like Rosso on our own." There hands were still joined, and he shifted his gaze from their twined fingers to her face. "I'll watch your back, and you'll watch mine, and we'll both watch Barret's." That prompted a smile, for their friend was prone to being in the wrong place.

Stretching slightly, she pressed a kiss to his throat, and another to his lips, then tugged him down so he was no longer propped on an elbow, but pressed firmly against her.

"I promise."

It was enough.


End file.
